UnSung
by macrauchenia
Summary: Unwind-universe drabbles inspired by the Shuffle-Song challenge. Specific warnings and pairing information within. Song suggestions are welcomed and desired.


**Disclaimer: **The Unwind Dystology belongs to the super talented, super amazing Neal Shusterman. The songs belong to their respective creators and producers.  
**Authors Note: **Well, I've always wanted to do this song-shuffle-shindig thing. Hopefully they aren't too bad :) If you guys like them enough, I'll probably do a few more either with "Unwind" or with other fandoms. Thanks!

**Although one of these deals with events in UnSouled, it isn't much of a spoiler. Most of these occur in Unwind and UnWholly.**

* * *

**_"Diary of Jane" by Breaking Benjamin_**

_One. _

_ Two. _

_ Three. _

No water was enough to wash away the burn. No soap was enough to stop the sizzling. Avoiding her red-rimmed gaze in the cracked bathroom mirror, Risa slowly pulls herself up, never realizing that one day she would be grateful for the trembling of her knees and the involuntary curling of her toes.

In this moment, though, she just wishes she could be completely numb.

...

**_"Electrolite" by R.E.M._**

Lev wasn't sure why, but the corner where she stood, arms crossed and glaring at the free world around her, always seemed to glow. Spark with some sort of energy. Every attempt to earn a chuckle or a frosty smile was for naught, but he still couldn't help but feel a strange jolt and try again.

Many kids his age were certified pyromaniacs; Lev considered himself drawn to lightning. Fire was predictable—lightning only struck once. Hotter. Brighter.

...

**_"You Raise Me Up" by Josh Groban_**

Some unwinds were atheists, believing _no_ deity would ever subject people to this hell. Some were devout, clinging on their faith to get by.

Roland never considered himself a man of great faith, though something about the chop shop made him rethink his spiritual views. It may have been the numbing chemicals pumping through his veins, but he had the sudden urge to talk to someone, even if they wouldn't respond.

_If anyone's out there, please... I'm sorry…for…everything. Please. Watch over my mom. I didn't mean to hit him. I didn't mean to hurt _him._ Please, let me live. Please let me be something. I wanna make it up for everything I might've done in the past. I'll do anything. I'll _give_ anything... _

...

_**"Marathon" by Falling Up**_

If you asked Hayden why he stayed, he would never give a straight answer. To work off a karma debt he owed the Dalai Lama? To atone for past crimes against cutting up earth worms? To keep the kids from setting fire to the ComBom?

If you asked Hayden why he shot out the windows, he would never give a straight answer. To _finally_ put in that new moon roof he had been wanting _forever? _To save his conscience? To save his _life_?

No matter how hard and how long you press, Hayden would never give up a straight answer, relying on his wit and metallic smirk to keep his secrets. He identified himself with the lost and found—and he couldn't bear living complete when others were _unwholly_.

...

**_"The Story" by Thirty Seconds to Mars_**

"Do you think they'll talk about us in history class someday?" Connor can feel the soft brush of Risa's not-hair against his arms as Risa rolls off of his chest. She fixes him curiously with her startling green not-eyes. Her appearance is something Connor never thinks he'll get used to. He's grateful these changes have saved her life, but they aren't the _true_ Risa.

"If they don't erase our names like they erased Janson's name? It won't be accurate, whatever they teach in school. We'll just be violent, lying unwinds," the girl sighs, closing her eyes.

"Only if we lose," Connor counters. "If we win, it'll be the truth. It'll be us, here. Now."

...

**_"Let Go" by RED_**

Sometimes he wonders what drew him to _them_ in the first place.

The glorious _chaos,_ naturally. The _unpredictability_, yes. The chance to make some unwarranted, unexplained _carnage_ in the world, of course.

He was hardly surprised when the helicopter came for him. Ironically, his invitation to their organization was the only thing Cleaver was _certain_ would happen.

This chaos, Cleaver decides, was calling him from the moment he left home under the cover of night to find the Graveyard and escape becoming part of the "system." The chaos, he decides, is the living, breathing unwinds in the confined, left-to-die Graveyard. So unnatural, so doomed to fail.

If only he could have lived to see the death of Death. Glorious chaos, indeed.

...

**_"Your Bones" by Of Monsters and Men_**

If he knew what he was going to become, what he was going to do in the future, would Connor Lassiter have gone AWOL? Would he have tranqed that Juvie cop with his own gun, taken a tithe as hostage, and taught the same tithe to be human? Would he have fallen in love with the girl sent to be unwound because of _budget cuts_ of all things?

If he chose to go quietly into the night—like that poem he had to read once in school, though never truly did he appreciate the meaning till now—would things have made any difference? Would the world continue to change or was he required to set everything in motion?

The Graveyard would have continued to thrive. Unwinds would be on the run until they were 18. Clappers would be nothing more than a faceless terror organization.

Connor could have been resting in the divided state instead of rescuing kids who had enough issues to rival his own case of baskets. He could have been finally at peace. Happy. Calm. Silent.

But would he have been at peace? This is the guilty question that keeps Connor up at night. What happens if he gives up...?

...

**_"From the Inside" by Linkin Park_**

For the first time, a teenager is finally prized for what is _inside. _What's on the _inside_ is what matters. After all, that's where all the valuable meat is.

Nothing on the outside can protect any wayward child from the same fate. The ugly, the gorgeous, the ordinary. They are all gutted the same, so someone else can wear their skin like a fur coat or live even longer with the ticker of a thirteen year old.

Finally, society has found a way to promote adolescent equality.

You're all the same in the divided state: unloved and lost.

...

**_"Like a Knife" by Secondhand Serenade_**

_Pain_.

When Cam first experienced pain, he knew it made him alive.

When Roberta first described pain, she made it sound like it would go away. The sting was temporary—leaving no lasting scar. At least, no scar that a well-placed skin graft couldn't fix.

However, Cam didn't understand this aching in his chest, this pounding in his head when Risa dismissed him as disgusting stain on humanity. There was no mark—he couldn't point out the exact symptoms to Roberta or his many doctors. No skin graft could cover up the scars that reopened every time she mentioned _him._ He couldn't replace the defective part with a new organ, because he knew it wasn't their fault.

Cam gratefully accepted the pain, knowing he was truly alive; this was his own feeling—not stolen memories. They had never felt anything like this before in their short, unloved lives.

...

**_"Demons" by Imagine Dragons_**

Roland is a part of him. He would be a part of him for as long as Connor remained breathing on this Earth—whether that would be decades or weeks, it was hard to tell.

Slowly Connor traces the leering tiger shark with a light finger, absorbing memories and hidden fears with each hesitant touch. Any other recipient of the arm would have the tattoo quickly blasted of or removed with another skin graft. But Connor can't—_too weak,_ a voice that wasn't his own snarks.

Split into a hundred pieces, Connor is tasked with saving the one piece of Roland that would never, could never be forgotten. Till the day he dies, Connor would keep Roland alive. Even if the only thing left of him to say he had ever lived is a tattoo of a forlorn shark, Roland still wants to be remembered. Despite their differences, Connor understands this.

...

**_"When Christmas Comes to Town" from the Polar Express Soundtrack_**

Even when he was young, Connor never believed in Santa Claus. Something about a jolly, round man in a red fur suit never seemed quite realistic. And flying reindeer? Forget it.

However, he can't suppress a smile at the awestruck expression of the former tithe's face as the pair slowly navigates through a surprisingly spirited neighborhood. If the younger boy's face was pressed any closer to the window, he would be in danger of bursting through the already rickety car door.

"Didn't you ever have lights at your house when you were growing up?"

Suddenly the youthful light leaves the boy's eyes and he settles back into his seat with a frosty scowl. "Christmas was not something we celebrated."

Connor is quiet for a moment. "When this is all over, we'll go get a _huge_ Christmas tree, and I'll make your scrawny butt enjoy the holidays." Lev's icy glare softens into a small smile.

* * *

I was going to stop at ten, but then that last one came up .'  
Ehh, it's in the holiday spirit, I guess. Thanks for reading!


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